


a man takes his sadness down to the river

by schweet_heart



Series: Merlin Fic [167]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Era, Heavy Angst, Inspired by Poetry, M/M, Magical Realism, Prose Poem, Regret, Symbolism, The Author Regrets Nothing, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-10-08 06:22:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17381282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schweet_heart/pseuds/schweet_heart
Summary: “Come on in,” he said. He was wearing nothing but a white shirt, long enough to cover all the things that needed to be covered, white enough for the skin to show through, bruise pink, blooming suddenly where the river pressed up against him. “I dare you.”Written forMoth's Poetics Fest 2019.





	a man takes his sadness down to the river

**Author's Note:**

> #NoApologies19

 

“Come on in,” he said. He was wearing nothing but a white shirt, long enough to cover all the things that needed to be covered, white enough for the skin to show through, bruise pink, blooming suddenly where the river pressed up against him. “I dare you.”

 

There was something delicate about him. No—delicate is the wrong word. He was all thin, tensile strength, like spider-silk, fragile ’til you got it all in a bunch. He was like that, a bunch of fine threads, tugging. Arthur slid his feet into the water.

 

“It’s too cold to swim,” he said. There were fingers of frost still edging the river, but the boy didn’t seem bothered at all by the weather. Relished it, even. His cheeks were rose-red, like twin robins. He said,

 

“It doesn’t matter.”

 

Perhaps it mattered less once you were in the water. Arthur waded in up to his calves, but the boy was still out of reach, up to his hips now, moving faster. From the waist down, Arthur could see nothing but reflection—twin boys, both of them watching him. Both of them wearing nothing but a white shirt, tendons made out of spider-silk. Still tugging.

 

“Wait,” Arthur said. The boy was sinking up to his shoulders. He was a white-slashed grin, dark hair moving against the current. Arthur ducked him under. Beneath the water there were stones like green teeth, a long dark throat that was constantly swallowing. Beneath the water there was only water and no air, and his own eyes stinging.

 

When Arthur walked out of the river, the boy was waiting on the bank, skipping pebbles.

 

“I don’t drown easy,” the boy said, and Arthur kissed him.

 

“I know you don’t,” he said; it's not the first time. “That’s why you burned.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> A man takes his sadness down to the river and throws it in the river  
> but then he's still left  
> with the river. A man takes his sadness and throws it away  
> but then he's still left with his hands.  
> ––– "Boot Theory" (from _Crush_ by Richard Siken)


End file.
